The Slope Down
by RuAlf
Summary: Just Ruvik, reminding you that he has control over your life... Fem!Seb, 2nd POV. Probably Fem!SebxRuvik if you want it to be


**Just a one shot I did after I watched the game which is quite a long time ago. I just feel like posting this after coming across it inside my file. Evil Within has amazingly vague story and who doesn't like a story they don't understand! I do so yeah, there you have this weird bad end shit.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story I write here.**

 **Warning: Genderbend! Seb and if you want to see it, Fem!Seb x Ruvik. And also, weird second POV**

EVIL WITHIN –PERSPECTIVE-

Deep, deep under your consciousness, somewhere beneath that thick skull of yours; you can feel it pulsing. That other conscience which has been nagging at you, telling your will to just give it up, let it control you, that surviving is fruitless, pointless. You fought it from surfacing, keeping it in tab as you traversed through this mad dungeon of Ruvik's –Ruben Viktorianus, your intelligent mind supplied smartly-. These people, who attacked you, tied in barbed wires and thorns, must've been humans before. Human who has given up on surviving and choose to be Ruvik's toys to play with.

What did you do to deserve this? Your selfish side roared in fury, raising an argument as to why Ruvik wants an ordinary detective such as you inside his torture world. There are thousands of reasons as to why you shouldn't be here in the first place. And no counter reason. You could only grit your teeth and moved forward, sneaking around significantly stronger enemies and maneuvered through dozens of traps. Agony Bows in hand, you cleaved through hordes after hordes of foes.

Until he called you…

Your name escaped his lips. Your reflection drawn on his cold, dark eyes. Luck, your lucky side has given up and revealed your pitiful self, under the bed for Ruvik to see. He grabbed your wrist, pulled you out of your pathetic hiding spot. Your lithe body easily slid across the wooden floor until your back crashed into the creaking wall. Groaning in pain, you tried grasping for your handgun strapped to your belt, but with a flick of his fingers, Ruvik had the weapon away from your grip.

"Stop…" you breathed, hands folding around yourself like you were cold. There were no footsteps, Ruvik has no footsteps even though he clearly was approaching you. You attempted to roll away from him, buy enough time to mount your shotgun and shot the lamp. Ruvik sneered at you before he vanished and reappeared right in front of you, his smirk widened a fraction.

It's useless, your rational mind screamed in complete fear. The scream settled in quickly - your whole body was paralyzed by it as you tried to reach for any way to shake off your pursuer. Ruvik simply grabbed both your hands and dragged you along the hallway, ignoring your struggle as if it means nothing at all. You closed your eyes, clawing for your sanity, your intelligence for anything, anything at all. As you rummaged through your crumpled mind, that nagging feeling nudged you.

 _Give it up…Ruvik will kill you. What's the point of living if you have to run from this nightmare?_

You willed it to shut the heck up. Ruvik's grip around your wrists felt tighter as you noticed your surrounding changed. Gone the familiar hallway of an 80s house and instead, the horrible, gut-wrenching wall of the hospital came to sight, sickening you to your stomach. The sound of tortured men filled the air, bellowing pained scream. You struggled even harder, screaming constantly, pulling at the hands keeping a tight grip on you. He never let go; you can even feel him smirking at your futile effort.

Everything frizzled on static. You felt your consciousness drifting away, your will to fight withered as exhaustion settled within you. Ruvik finally let go, but you're far too lost in fog to care anymore. You looked up toward his merciless eyes. His burnt face etched painful memories in your brain. He was smiling. Smiling as he picked you up with a flick of his hand. You're about to ask, softly, your voice far too hoarse to voice out your question. But he shushed you, throwing you to the floor.

"Do you really think you know me?"

You nodded weakly. It's not too long when you found out that Ruvik was behind the research, operating on brains like it was childsplay. How far had he gone, you don't know, but you know he's one who didn't value living, breathing creatures. After the fire engulfing his house, robbing him of his physical form and sister, he became mad. Ruvik –Ruben Viktoriano, you corrected automatically – has lost his humanity. Instead, he regained the cold-blooded persona to face the world.

He cluck his tongue in disdain, almost disgust, "And here I thought, you're a detective of great caliber…"

Yeah, there're not enough clue to go on…that was pure deduction, what you can piece together from the scattered journals across this mad world. Oh…OH!

The realization dawned upon you. The doctor said it himself, that this world created by Ruvik's mind, everything was conjured up by his consciousness. The whole lot monsters you encountered was human until their mental break and they give in to Ruvik's control. What you found…whatever weapon you can find…it's all Ruvik's mercy. You're a puppet without a string that he lets inside this pity party of lunatic dance, charade of insanity.

"How do you like being alive now, detective…" he sat beside the you, crossing his arms, "…does breathing makes you happy now?"

 _No_ your mind hissed, "Yes…" you inhaled sharply, almost painfully. He smelt like smoke, clogging your nose from fresh air. Ruvik leant closer, his face uncomfortably filling your vision as his bandaged fingers tilted your chin up. "Do you…now?" they're cold, ice cold like the first winter snow biting at your skin. His lips twisted into a sickening grin, a feat you could never understand came so naturally to a psychopath. You struggled against his grip, the air constantly pricking your skin, hindering your attempt.

"Ever thought why?" he asked to your lips, there's not a single warmth left on his breath, "…why am I doing this? Why torment many?" it's cold…it's cold, your mind screamed.

"No…" you replied, somehow, "…I don't know…no" you could feel his freezing lips almost touching yours.

He brushed his lips against yours, the skin of them were marred beyond repair. Yours are warm, of course, way too warm, you thought compared to his. Has this been another story in another circumstances, you believed you will pity this man.

"Because the world had done it to me" his voice was too low, too…distant. You recalled the news strewn about in Tatiana's reception counter. Fire. Missing person. Sister. Ruben Viktoriano is not a villain, but a victim. A victim who had lost everything and would do everything in his power to strip everyone off every thing they love. You wanted to pity him, you truly do. He's just a boy. An ordinary boy had he not been given the intelligent and curiosity of a scientist.

You found that you couldn't.

Maybe your feelings are starting to grow dull. You've been running, after all, running while depending on no one, but your instinct and skills. This nightmare had succeeded on chipping the humanity from you bit by bit. You could still 'feel', yes, but you couldn't emote. You couldn't exactly point out what do you feel when Ruvik's world unraveled before you, revealing its sad, sad creator. Behind the cruelest monsters lurking within, lays the fragile, broken boy, destroyed by a simple fire. Just like what had taken your daughter.

Ruvik fascinated your existence. Somehow, you who can't be killed no matter how many times his world assaulted you, had piqued his interest. Like a child's favorite toy, thoroughly broken, but never disposed of. You've been stabbed, shot at, pierced, even fallen headfirst from unbelievable height. Yet you survived all. You walked it off as if they're just mere bruises and cuts. Nothing big, nothing traumatizing. You've always been commended of keeping your calm after all.

Something…something…

You grappled for sanity when his lips touched yours. He's so hurt it channeled through what should be an affectionate gesture. You gripped at his tattered coat, clenched your fist as he pulled you to him, a cold hand touched your waist. Despite your clothes, despite his supposedly dead body temperature, you found his touch burnt through your skin. His lips were cold, pressed against your warm pair as if absorbing your heat, ravishing it, turning it into the bitter cold before transferring it back to you. Your strength was sapped quickly, mercilessly, as he deepened his lips as if doing so would meld them together.

He parted out of pity. He pitied you for needing air, living at the mercy of your obligation to cling to life. How human, you could almost hear him whispered. Your throat contracted, tightened as you felt curses and obscenities filling it up, choked on your larynx. You can't. He would kill you. He would rip your throat off your neck and devoured you whole. Messing your body through and through while he's at it.

Your handgun felt cold to your waist, having your shirt hitched up slightly due to his weight pressing yours to the cold floor. He merely smirked when you gasped for breath, shushing you with his lips once more, fiercer, deeper, ravishing what's left. This is his world, his territory where you, as the intruder has no control over anything.

"Just remember…" he said as he nipped at your ear, "…you're mine to play with…"

You closed your eyes, giving in to the sweet, sweet darkness.


End file.
